


Lumos

by Flantastic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Loneliness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry holds its secrets well.  Born six months after the famous battle in which Voldemort was defeated, James Bond is just weeks away from leaving the school when he stumbles across an unusual portrait of a young man.  Who was the mysterious ‘Q’ and why does James get the feeling that the painting is in terrible danger?





	1. The Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HannaRS97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaRS97/gifts).



> Here it is, my offering for this year's 00Q Reverse Big Bang. I chose the fabulous artwork 'Lumos' by HannaRS97. The original prompt read;
> 
> Prompt Name: Lumos
> 
> Preferred Partnership Model: Exploding Pen  
> Hogwarts AU, Gryffindor!James.  
> One day James is out in the middle of curfew, and he found an interesting portrait. 
> 
> Prefered Genre: Angst.
> 
> After I'd worked on it for a while I asked Hanna what type of ending she'd prefer, happy or sad. We came to an agreement and I should probably warn everyone there's not a lot of fluffy bunnies or kittens in this...

 

 

_Then..._

James Bond and his friend Alec Trevelyan raced each other up the first floor corridor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, laughing a little hysterically.  They had been at the school for a little over three months but they still hadn’t got the hang of the ever-shifting layout of the place.  Apparently before the enormous battle at the school that ended Voldemort’s reign of terror, only the staircases would move but ever since that night the corridors seemed to shift too.  People said that the old building had been infused with so much magic that night from all the fighting, that it almost had a life of its own now and that it had a particular love of bamboozling unwary first years.

They were late for Professor Flitwick’s Charms lesson and more specifically, his pre-Christmas test.  He didn’t look kindly on tardiness and they were already a full five minutes late, although they couldn’t blame it all on the building and its confusing corridors.  It had snowed the night before and the boys had been too busy throwing snowballs at each other to notice the encroaching end to their lunch break.  James loved the snow.  He grew up in the wilds of Scotland so he was used to it but Alec was from down south near Exeter so it was a novelty for him.

“Once we get our mums and dads to meet, I’m sure mine will invite you up to stay.  You could come for New Year!  There’s a great big hill by our house which is perfect for tobogganing!”  James had told him.  “We’re miles from any muggles so you can ride your broomstick there too!”

James and Alec had met on their first day at Hogwarts and had ended up being transported to the school in the same boat.  They’d started chatting and hit it off immediately.  They had a lot in common.  They were both from wizarding families.  They both ended up in Gryffindor.  They both loved to fly and both hoped to try out for their house Quidditch team the first chance they got.  James’s dad had been captain of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team for five years and James was eager to live up to his reputation.  When they were both sorted into Gryffindor they immediately sat together in the Great Hall and stayed sat together in every lesson every chance they got.  Not that they were going to get the chance in Flitwick’s class that day.  The little professor had a habit of conjuring all the spare chairs away if anyone was late and making them stand up for the whole lesson.

James beat Alec to the corner, pelting along at full speed.  He ran straight into a mishmash of bright colours.  There was a little shriek and James grabbed on instinctively, stopping Professor Trelawney from tumbling to the ground.

“Sorry Professor!”  He exclaimed.  “Are you alright?”

The little woman hitched her oversized bag closer to her chest and peered at him through her thick, round glasses.

“My my,” She said, almost to herself.  “Am I what?  Alright?  Well, I’m not sure.  I think so but how can one really tell?  The tea leaves knew I would be bumping into a blond boy today, I should have listened to them…”  She gripped James’s arm with surprisingly strong fingers and squinted.  “Who are you anyway?”

“Bond, Professor.  James Bond.”

“First year.  Am I correct?  I haven’t had you in my class yet, have I?”

“No Professor.”

“Shame.  I knew your father.  Andrew, wasn’t it?  Complete scoundrel but I’ll let you into a little secret; I rather liked him.  Such a charming boy.  So polite, when he wasn’t getting himself into mischief that is.”  James smiled.  His dad had always been highly spirited, up for any kind of adventure.  He could imagine him being a nightmare at school. “Are you going to be a scoundrel too?  Of course you are.  You’ll be just…”

The old woman trailed off as she seemed to lose her train of thought.  She froze, staring at James with an increasingly blank expression.

“Professor?”

James looked to Alec who’d watched their entire exchange.  He was about to say something to him when Professor Trelawney’s hand suddenly clamped down on his bicep.  He yelled out at the vice-like grip and tried to back away as the woman’s eyes seemed to roll up into the back of her head.  He realised that her breathing was becoming laboured and suddenly a low voice, quite at odds to how she’d previously been speaking, growled out of her.

_“The serpent’s venom has done its work,_

_The eagle cannot fly,_

_A lion alone can break the chains,_

_If brave enough to die.”_

At the end of the verse she seemed to choke and then cough and her grip on James’s arm loosened.  She began speaking in her normal voice again.

“…like him, playing Quidditch and breaking all the girl’s hearts!”  She smiled at James and then, noticing that she was still holding his arm, let go.  “Well now.  I’m sure you need to be somewhere.  Off you go then and try not to bump into anyone else.”

James was stunned.  He wasn’t quite sure what he’d just seen.

“Are you feeling alright Professor?”

“You’ve asked me that once already, dear boy.  My.  You are a sweet thing for being so concerned.  You mustn’t worry about me.  Run along now.”

She bustled off and James and Alec headed off in the direction of the Charms classroom once more.

“What the hell was that?”  James asked his bewildered-looking friend.

“No idea,” Alec replied.  “Never seen anything like that before.”

“Maybe she’s ill.  Should we tell someone?  What if she’s gone mad?  She might hurt herself.”

“We could ask…”

The words died in Alec’s mouth as they rounded the corner and saw Professor Flitwick and James’s head of house, Professor Longbottom, talking with the Headmistress McGonagall.  They stopped talking when they saw the boys.  As James got closer he could see they all looked upset.

“Trevelyan.” McGonagall said.  There you are.  Go on in with Professor Flitwick please.  The class is waiting for you.  Bond, you’re with us.”

Alec murmured a subdued goodbye and James watched him go into the classroom with their teacher.  James turned back to the professors.  He felt an uneasy lump forming in his stomach.

“What’s this all about?”  He said with a bravado he wasn’t really feeling.

“Come with us James.” Professor Longbottom said gently.

“Not until I know what this is about.”  James said, his voice going high as he realised the lump in his stomach was fear.

“Bond.” McGonagall said quietly.  “I’m so sorry.  It’s your parents.  There’s been an accident…”

 

 

_Now…_

James laid back on the tartan blanket and gazed up at the stars above him, wondering where he’d gone wrong.

Peony Parkinson had seemed keen enough on him after the Quidditch match that afternoon, snogging his face off under the Slytherin viewing stand and readily agreeing to meet him at the top of the Astronomy Tower for a midnight picnic. But twelve o’clock had been and gone and there he was, alone.  He didn’t do badly with the girls really considering her wasn’t actually a Quidditch player, but after the first kiss they seemed to go off him.  He didn’t think he was a bad kisser, although he couldn’t really tell, and he was always polite, asking girls what they liked instead of just diving in.  No. Kissing was fine but dating was a whole different kettle of nargles.

His friend Bill Tanner had no trouble.  He wasn’t the tubby little kid who’d first taken pity on James seven years before.  In his third year he’d shot up in height and slimmed down.  He had no trouble keeping girlfriends although for the past two years it had just been the one girl, Eve Moneypenny.  She was the prettiest witch James had ever known and he’d have been a bit jealous if they weren’t both such good friends to him.

He didn’t really have that many friends.  He wasn’t bullied as such, Eve said he was too tall and good-looking for that, but after his parents died in his first year a lot of the other kids had avoided him.  Even Alec, who James had been sure was going to be his best friend forever.  He couldn’t say he blamed them.  What _do_ you say to a boy who’s just lost both of his parents in one accident?  It was difficult enough for the adults.  Bill and Eve were two of the few that had made the effort to speak to him after.  James had been pleased when they’d started going out with each other.  They deserved to be happy.  They still spent loads of time with James though and it helped him to make him feel a little less lonely.

James was one of the oldest in his year, turning eighteen the previous October.  Legally an adult at seventeen, he’d inherited his parent’s fortune on his birthday the year before.  That meant he’d been able to spend the previous Christmas staying in Diagon Alley while he hunted for a flat in London.  He’d liked the look of one on a muggle street, not far from the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road, and he thought he might end up buying it.  He liked the muggle lifestyle, having been introduced to it through Bill and his non-magical family, and thought it might be nice to live amongst them.  He would just have to try to remember not to use magic too often.

He was due to take his N.E.W.Ts in a couple of weeks and then he would be leaving Hogwarts.  He couldn’t say he wouldn’t miss the place but he was eager to start his new life in London.  He wasn’t the most brilliant of students but he’d managed to get onto an Auror training apprenticeship.  Providing he didn’t stuff up his exams too badly, that was.

He stretched and sighed.  He was getting cold and snow was beginning to fall again.  It was only just the start of February but Christmas felt like a distant memory already and he wished that the weather would start warming up again.  He sat up and carefully folded the blanket, slipping it back into the picnic basket beside him.  Earlier he’d snuck down to the kitchens to politely ask a house elf for it and to see if she wouldn’t mind tidying it up for him afterwards and she’d leapt at the chance.  They were a funny bunch, the elves.  So eager to help.  He liked hanging around them.  They always seemed so happy.

He whispered _‘lumos’_ and set off down the tower’s long spiral staircase by the light from the glowing tip of his wand.  He was halfway down when he heard a clock strike one o’clock.  He stifled a yawn as he paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening out for anyone who might be lurking in the shadows.  Tomorrow was Sunday and he was an adult but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get into trouble if he was caught outside of the Gryffindor common room at that time of night.  Not hearing anything he headed off along the seventh floor corridor, stepping lightly to avoid making too much noise.

As James walked he wondered idly if he would have more luck finding friends or even a girlfriend in London.  He had no family that he knew of, apart from his Aunt Charmian.  His father had never got on with his sister and she had directed that animosity back towards James when his parents died.  He knew that he was very similar to his father physically and he wondered if this was why she was so hostile towards him.  After his first disastrous stay with her, during the Christmas holiday following his parents’ death, he had applied to stay at Hogwarts during the holiday periods.  McGonagall had given him permission readily and James sometimes wondered if she might not have received a letter from his aunt in which she requested the same thing. Living at Hogwarts full-time had been okay, he supposed.  James liked the Professors and he loved spending time with Hagrid but what he really wanted was someone he could be with who could perhaps love him a little bit.  He knew he’d find someone in time but he was tired of waiting.

There was a noise up ahead and he froze.  He heard a miaow and a mumbled response.  Shit.  It was Filch and his bloody cat, Mrs Norris.  The old caretaker was in his eighties at least and Merlin alone knew how old the cat was.  There were rumours that she’d been at the school when Harry Potter was a pupil but as Potter had started there as a first year twenty-five years before, he wasn’t sure he believed that.  He looked around and felt a flutter of panic when he realised there was nowhere that he could hide.  No alcoves, nothing.  He was about two-thirds of the way up the corridor but turned around thinking that he might be able to sprint down to the other end before Filch got to the part he was in.  He might be seen but if he was quick enough he might not be recognised.

James took five steps and then realised that there was a door after all.  He shook his head, unable to believe that he hadn’t noticed it when he passed this part of the corridor the first time.  He grasped the metal ring on it and twisted it before pushing it open.  He whispered _‘nox’_ and the glow of his wand tip winked out as he slipped inside, closing it behind him as softly as he could.  He pressed his fingertips against the wood and stilled his breath.  He began to hear what Filch was saying as he wondered closer.

 _“… I don’t doubt that you thought you heard something my darling but if it was a student then they’re not here now_ .”  There was another quiet miaow. “ _I’m not saying you’re a liar.  I’m saying the students are getting wilier by the day.  No discipline, you see.  Bring back flogging, I say.  Back in the day a student wouldn’t dare to be out of their bed after curfew…”_

Filch’s voice faded and James breathed out a sigh of relief.  Once he was sure the man had gone James whispered _‘lumos’_ again and turned, intending to explore the room he’d taken refuge in.  He paused for a moment, transfixed.  The room was huge, easily the size of a Quidditch pitch with walls twenty feet high.  Every inch of the walls, from floor to ceiling, was covered in mirrors which shone and reflected James’s light back into each other until the whole room glowed.  He took a couple of steps forward, smiling at the simple beauty of the room.

He walked slowly, wondering how it was that he’d never seen or heard about this room before.  Every mirror seemed to be different to its neighbours.  Some were plain with simple wooden surrounds.  Others were huge with enormous ornate gilded frames.  Occasionally he spotted one that looked ancient, its glass faded and pocked with age.  He watched himself as he passed each mirror.  He looked tired but the low light was making his eyes shine.  He wondered if parties had ever been held in there.  He imagined a dozen simple candelabras would be enough to make the whole room shine like a sun.   

As he approached the far wall he noticed something unusual.  A splash of colour in amongst all the reflections.  When he was close enough James realised it was a portrait.

The subject of the painting was a young man.  He was reclining in a corner, as if sleeping, his head tilted to one side.  James stepped closer and raised his wand.  The painting looked worn and in very poor condition around the edges but the subject himself was undamaged.  He had been painted beautifully and his dark hair looked so soft and so real that James felt like he could reach into the painting and run his fingers over it.  He imagined it would feel as soft as silk.  The man’s face was pale and his lips were ruby red.  James wondered who he was.  He drew back and saw that there was a dedication plate on the bottom of the frame.  It simply read ‘Q’.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it was rude to stare?”

James jerked up and, stumbling in his shock, fell flat on his arse.  The man in the painting straightened up and a smile twitched his lips.  As James scrambled back up onto his feet he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“S-sorry,” He stammered.  “It’s just… you’re beautiful… your brushstrokes, I mean.  I’ve never seen such a lovely painting.”

The man tilted his head, looking around himself.

“The painting?  Yes, I suppose it would seem lovely.”

James walked forward again.

“Who painted you?”  The man leaned back again, settling into his corner and shook his head.  James waited for a moment and then realised that he wasn’t going to answer him.  “Don’t you know?”  A thought suddenly occurred to him.  Hardly any of the portraits at Hogwarts were of living people.  If this portrait had been commissioned to be created at the time of the subject’s death…  His cheeks burned again when he realised that the young man portrayed in the painting probably wasn’t still alive and that he was being quite rude.  He decided to change the subject.  “What’s your name?”

The man in the painting sighed.  It had seemed as if he had been about to nod off again but he roused himself and pointed down.  James followed his gesture and his eyes rested on the little dedication plate again.

“Q?”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not much of a name.”

The man, Q, hummed and shrugged.

“Why won’t you tell me your name?” James asked.

“Why should I?  You haven’t told me yours…”

“Sorry.  It’s Bond.  James Bond.”

“Bond?  Are you related to Andrew Bond from Gryffindor?”

James smiled.

“He was my father.”

Q looked pained at James’s words.

“Have I really been here so long?”  He asked sadly.  He looked around himself again and looked so lost that James felt sorry for him, even if he was a little confused.  Suddenly the penny dropped.

“You knew my father, didn’t you?  When you were alive.  Were you in Gryffindor with him?”

Q didn’t answer but looked back at him with a mournful expression.  James caught sight of a movement in the top left corner of the painting.  Raising his wand he saw a strange white threading, almost like a spider’s web or a feathery mould pulsing and stretching across the paint.  For a second it looked like it would spread right the way across the top of the portrait but then it seemed to recede, leaving a network of fine cracks behind it.  He reached up to touch it and…

 _“DON’T!!”_ Q’s voice was shrill and loud.  James yanked his fingers back as if burned.  “Don’t, please.” Q added quietly.  “It’ll hurt you.”

“Is it… what is it?”

Q shook his head again and settled back.  He seemed unwilling to talk about himself or his portrait at all.

“Why are you here?”  Q asked instead.  “It’s a bit late isn’t it?  Isn’t there a curfew in place?”

James huffed out a laugh and scratched the back of his head.

“I arranged to meet a girl for a midnight picnic.” He said, a little embarrassed.  “She didn’t show up though.”

“Her loss.”  Q chuckled.  “Don’t tell me.  You were at the top of the Astronomy Tower.”

“Is there anywhere else?” James quipped.

“Oh my,” Q closed his eyes, “Many an hour was spent up there…”

“Lots of girls eh?” James asked.

“Lots of boys.” Q said, wistfully.  “Well, a few anyway.  There weren’t many who were like me but I had my share of kisses.”  He opened his eyes again.  “Is that shocking to you?  Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind.” James said.  He knew a couple of boys who liked boys.  He studied Q’s face.  He seemed sad but James wondered what he’d been like in life.  Had he been happier?  He must have been once.  To be left in a room like this, with only the mirrors for company and just the miniscule amount of light seeping in through the crack under the door… it was no wonder he seemed sad now.  He shivered.  He thought he’d felt lonely but it would be nothing compared to what the portrait of Q must have experienced.  He wondered if he could do anything to help.

“Why are you in here all alone?” James asked.  “Do the subjects of the other portraits ever visit?  Do you visit them?”

The wistful expression disappeared from Q’s face and he gave a little shake of his head again.

“No.  I… I’m afraid I don’t know much about why I’m in here but I am alone most of the time.  Students sometimes find me though so I’m not lonely.  I get people to talk to.”

James nodded but there was something in Q’s expression that made him think that he wasn’t exactly telling James the truth.  James wondered what it was that Q was trying to keep secret.

 

 

 


	2. The Portrait

The next morning James ate his breakfast at lightning speed, eagerly telling Bill and Eve about what he’d found.  They huddled over one end of the Gryffindor dining table in the Great Hall and listened intently as James told them everything that had happened the night before in between shovelling forkfuls of bacon and eggs into his mouth.

“…and I stayed there until almost five o’clock this morning and we just talked.  He doesn’t say much about himself but he knows lots about the history of Hogwarts and not the boring stuff, the really funny stuff about the students that have been here and…” James stopped when he saw the wry expressions that Bill and Eve were exchanging.  “What?”

Bill chuckled.

“You do realise we’ve been sat here for half an hour and you’ve done nothing but talk about that portrait, don’t you?”

James felt himself blush and was about to blurt out that Q was more than a painting when he sagged.  They were right.  He’d been getting all excited about an enchantment, nothing more.

“I’m sorry.  It’s just… Q’s so funny and he’s easy to talk to and he’s…”  James hesitated. “Never mind.”

“What were you about to say?” Eve asked.

James glanced at Bill, unsure of how he would react at what he was about to say next.

“He’s so handsome.  And beautifully painted but whoever did it must have messed up the process because the paint is starting to crack and peel away.  It just makes me so sad to think that one day there’ll be nothing left of him.  It.” He added quickly.

Eve frowned. 

“I’ve never heard of an enchanted portrait deteriorating like that before.  I wonder what’s causing it.”

“It looked like some sort of blight.  I tell you what, why don’t I show you?”

Bill looked at his watch.

“I thought we were going to revise this morning?”

“We can!” James insisted.  “This’ll only take a few minutes.” 

They finished their breakfasts and left the hall.  James had to stop himself from racing ahead in his eagerness to show his friends the portrait.  Instead he led them quickly to the seventh floor corridor.  Once there he put his back to the entrance to the Astronomy Tower so he could retrace his steps. 

“It’s along here,” he said, striding forwards, “I was intending to cut through past the Transfiguration classroom when I heard Filch around the corner ahead and I…”  He paused.  “This is odd…” He was sure that he was closer to the corner now than he’d got the previous night but he hadn’t passed the door.  He turned around and took a couple of faltering steps back up the corridor before placing his hand on the wall. “It should be here.”  He said softly. 

“Maybe it’s Hogwarts playing tricks on you.” Eve suggested.

Bill shrugged.

“Maybe you dreamed it all.  Big room filled with mirrors.  Sounds like one of your weird dreams to me.”

“I was sure it would be here…”  James said doubtfully.

“Come on James.”  Eve said, reaching out to pat his shoulder.  “We really should be revising…”

He nodded and followed her and Bill back down the corridor.

~00Q~

He tried to concentrate on his Herbology notes, he really did, sitting in the library with Bill and Eve well into the afternoon but he couldn’t stop thinking about the portrait.  Why had the door disappeared?  He was sure at first that he hadn’t imagined it but the more he thought about it the less sure he was.  Bill suggested he might have been overtired, wandered back to their dorm on auto-pilot and then dreamed about the mysterious portrait.  Perhaps he was right…  James did tend to have the weirdest dreams.

James sighed as he read the same sentence about Devil’s Snare for what felt like the fifteenth time.  He sat up and shut the book with a resounding clap.

“That’s it.  I can’t get my head around this at all today.  I’m going for a walk.”

Bill lifted his nose out of his own book.

“Come on mate.  You’ve said it yourself; you’re crap at Herbology.  You need to stick at it.”

“I know.” James said as he started to stuff his books, parchments and quills into his bag.  “I just can’t at the moment.”

He left the room quickly and ran out into the grounds.  He hesitated for a moment, deciding where to go and then headed for the lake.  The day had been bright but chilled and James wrapped his robe around himself as he went to his favourite spot.  Bill was right.  James was crap at Herbology.  Potions too.  He was good at the practical sides of magic.  Transfiguration and the casting of spells came naturally to him but facts and figures eluded him.  Remembering the properties of plants and the ingredients in potions… none of it seemed to stick in his thick head.  He had gained the offer of a place on the Ministry of Magic’s Auror training apprenticeship but if he didn’t get good enough grades in his two worst subjects they simply wouldn’t take him.

He reached the old oak and sat down under it, resting against its trunk.  Setting his bag down beside him he relaxed.  This was the best place to be in James’s opinion.  He couldn’t be seen by anyone unless they came looking specifically.  The lake was calm and soothing.  In the summer he would sometimes see the tentacles of the Giant Squid or the occasional merperson but not at this time of year.  The water was too cold and all was still.  He debated getting his Herbology notes out again but decided against it.  Dusk was beginning to fall.  Instead he allowed his mind to wander.

It went straight to Q.

He tried to piece together what he knew of him. Q wasn’t dressed as a Hogwarts student in the portrait but he’d remembered James’s father.  He must have been a student there once.  Maybe in Gryffindor with his dad?  He looked about the same age as James – maybe seventeen or eighteen – but his clothes didn’t give away any clues.  He was obviously really clever from all the stuff he knew about but he looked way too young to’ve been a Professor.  Maybe James should re-read ‘Hogwarts; A History’ and see if anyone who fitted Q’s description was mentioned in there…

James shook his head and closed his eyes.  Maybe he should concentrate on the things he definitely knew instead.  Q was definitely good looking.  Definitely.  He had high cheekbones and a wide mouth that was quick to smile.  James wondered if he was beginning to fancy him.  It certainly occurred to him that he hadn’t bothered going over to the Slytherin table that morning to see what had happened to Peony the night before.  James was pretty sure he’d never fancied a boy before and yet there was something very alluring about Q.  He wondered what it would be like to kiss a boy like him.  He reckoned his lips would be soft and inviting.  Still wondering, James started to doze.

_ He’s had the dream a hundred times before.  A thousand. _

_ The long walk down the stone corridor, cold and as naked as the day he was born.  He never recognises exactly where he is but he knows instinctively that he is in Hogwarts.  The portraits that line the walls are all chanting the same thing, some of them are whispering, others are screaming. _

“ _ The eagle cannot fly!” _

“ _ The eagle cannot fly!” _

“ _ The eagle cannot fly!” _

_ When he was younger the dream scared him but not now.  Now it irritates him.  Frustrates him.  Once it left him squirming with embarrassment and shame to be walking down the corridors of Hogwarts naked but not now.  James simply searches.   Seeks to find the dream’s meaning and find the centre of the mental labyrinth.  The walls seem to close in on him but they never touch him.    He wanders... wanders... wanders… and all the while the portraits repeat over and over; _

“ _ The eagle cannot fly!” _

James jerked awake, stiff and cold from sleeping propped up against the tree.  He was disorientated for a second and then he groaned as he realised how numb his bottom was.  He stood up and began to make his way back to the castle.  It was dark now and as he entered he could hear the murmured voices and chinking cutlery of students enjoying their supper.  He paused by the large memorial to the brave souls who lost their lives at the Battle of Hogwarts and he scanned their names, not really reading them all, as he wondered whether to go in and eat.  There were dozens listed and certain names seemed to leap out at him.

_ Colin Creevey _

_ Lavender Brown _

_ Janus Dawson _

_ Septima Dippet _

_ Bertha Higgedly _

_ Remus Lupin _

_ Quintilius Osprey _

_ Severus Snape _

_ Nymphadora Tonks _

_ Fred Weasley _

_ Nigel Wolpert _

He ran his finger over the last one.  James had no clue who Nigel had been.  He wondered if he’d still been a student when he died.  He wondered if his parents were still alive.  He wondered how many years would it be before all the people who knew him had passed away and he was left like this?  The memory of him reduced to just a name carved in a block of stone.

James suddenly realised that he didn’t want supper.  He turned on his heel and climbed the stairs, intending to go straight to the Gryffindor common room.  As he waited for the second staircase that he needed to swing into position he had another sudden change of heart.  It had bothered him all afternoon that he hadn’t been able to find the room with Q’s portrait in while with Eve and Bill so he decided to have one last look.

He told himself every step of the way to the seventh floor corridor that he was probably mistaken and that Bill was probably right.  He must have dreamt it all.  He’d had vivid dreams ever since his parents died.  They’d begun soon after the funeral.  In them he was always roaming the halls of Hogwarts in one way or another with Trelawney’s weird words running through his head.  He wasn’t quite sure why he remembered that incident with her so clearly.  Maybe it was because it happened on the worst day of his life, moments before he received the news that brought his world crashing down around him?  Maybe it was because it happened the exact moment that he last remembered being truly happy?  He didn’t know but he was sure of one thing; if it hadn’t been for that stupid recurring dream he might never have remembered Trelawney’s strange words at all.

_ “The serpent’s venom has done its work, _

_ The eagle cannot fly, _

_ A lion alone can break the chains, _

_ If brave enough to die.” _

He rounded the corner and his train of thought derailed as he saw that the door had returned.  He barked out a laugh and ran to it, excitedly yanking it open.  Once inside he closed the door firmly and uttered  _ ‘lumos’ _ to light his wand tip.  The mirrors in the room immediately brightened up, reflecting the light back between themselves prettily.  James trotted to the portrait and then smiled as he saw Q, resting just as he had been when James found him the night before.

“Hello!”  He said excitedly.

Q cracked an eye open and then smiled back a little shyly.

“Hello you,” He said, “You came back.”

“I said I would.”  James replied, pulling off his robe and balling it up so he could sit on it.  Q sat up so that he could see him clearly from inside his portrait’s frame.  He shrugged.

“I know but not everyone who promises to does.”

“Really?”

Q just raised an eyebrow sardonically.

“I tried to find you earlier,” James carried on.  “I had my friends with me but I couldn’t find the door to this room.  It was really odd.”

“I guess they didn’t want to find it that badly.  That’s the weird thing about the Room of Requirement.  You have to really need it to find it.  I used to get upset when people promised to come back and then didn’t...  It took me ages to work out where I was.”

“The room of what?” James was confused.  The name sounded familiar.

“Requirement.” Q repeated patiently.  “Do you know the story of the students who resisted here during the year running up to the battle that ended Voldemort’s reign?”

James nodded.

“One of my teachers, Professor Longbottom, was here that year.  He was one of the students who rebelled.”

“Did he tell you about the room that they hid in towards the end?  It turned into a kind of bunkhouse.  It was perfect for them.  It even had a secret passageway that led them to Aberforth Dumbledore’s pub in Hogsmeade.”

“Were you hanging on the wall in here back then?”  James sat up, suddenly interested.  Professor Longbottom didn’t talk about those days much.

“No, I came after.”

Q’s words seemed to slip out thoughtlessly.  Suddenly the edges of the portrait seemed to shimmer, the white threading seemingly crawling out from where it hid in the frame.  This time it reached right across the portrait and seemed to touch Q.  He flinched.

“Stop it!” Q shouted.  “What’s the harm in telling him that?  What’s the harm?”  He sat back, almost cowering in his painted corner as the web pulsed and flexed right across the canvas before receding back into the frame again.  He shook his head once it had stopped.  “I’m sorry.  Please.  I can’t talk about…”  He trailed off as James stood up to examine the side of the frame.  “Please don’t touch it.  It will hurt you.”

James shook his head.

“I won’t touch it.”  He said soothingly, looking up into the top corners.  He couldn’t see any sign of the strange blight now.  He looked back down at Q.  He wondered if it was just a trick of the light but he almost looked ill now.  He tried to remember why the white stuff had flared up the last time he was there.  Hadn’t they been trying to talk about Q that time too?  Maybe the portrait was cursed or something.  Trying to stop Q from telling anyone details about who he really was.  A curse would certainly explain why the subjects of the other portraits wouldn’t go near him.

“I’m sorry.” Q said sadly.  “You should probably leave.  I’m not much company, am I?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”  James said, unwilling to go so soon.  He’d spent most of the day thinking about Q after all.  “Let’s just change the subject.  I like spending time with you.”

Q gave a sad smile and looked touched to be offered James’s friendship.        

“Okay.  What subject shall we choose to talk about?”

“Anything but Herbology!”  James laughed.  “I’m rubbish at that!”

“Really?” Q asked.  “I always rather enjoyed it.  And Potions.  I loved creating new ones.”

“They’re my two weakest subjects.”  James grumbled.

“Let me help you.”  Q offered.  “I see you have your book bag with you.  What are you stuck on?”

James grinned and extracted his Herbology book. 

“What do you know about the properties of Venomous Tentacula?”

Q snorted.

“What don’t I know?”

James sat down cross-legged and extracted a quill and scroll, ready to make notes as Q began to talk.

 

 

 


	3. The Professor

 

They talked.  Oh, how they talked.

First it was Herbology and then Potions.  Then poetry.  Then current events.  James started to bring in copies of the Daily Prophet so that he could read aloud from it to Q.  For over a fortnight James spent almost every spare moment he could talking to Q, sometimes falling asleep on the cushions he’d brought in to sit on.  He quickly got to love waking up to see Q watching him, his chin resting on his hand, a strange half-smile on his face.  For the first time since the death of his parents James almost felt happy.  Except…

Except James’s exams were almost upon him.

Except James would soon be leaving Hogwarts.

Except Q was starting to look _ill_.

The first two of these exceptions didn’t bother James too much.  From almost the beginning he’d wondered if he might be able to get permission to take the portrait with him but for days now he’d been determined to just steal it.  Sod what anyone thought.  He would buy that flat in London and he would put Q’s portrait in pride of place and then Q wouldn’t have to worry about being lonely ever again.  James knew what it was to be like to be lonely…

The third exception was more worrying.  He’d never heard of the subject of a portrait ailing before.  They’d been careful not to talk about anything that would make the blight flare up again but Q still seemed to be getting sicker.  Maybe it was from when the strange tendrils came into contact with him…  James just didn’t know.  He spent all the time he could in the library, trying to learn more about it, obsessively reading up on it when he perhaps should have been studying more practical things.

“Bloody hell James.”

Bill’s words distracted him.  He was lying in his bed reading.  It was almost midnight and the other seventh year boys, Gareth Mallory, Sebastian Ronson and Alec Trevelyan were all in the dorm doing the same.  He pulled his nose out of “Magical Portraits through the Ages”.

“What?”

“Where the fuck were you this evening?”

James looked at him blankly before he realised what he was talking about.

“Oh.  Herbology revision?  I’ve done it.”

Bill looked annoyed.

“You’ve done it?  You’ve done your revision for your worst subject _on your own_?  You were supposed to be in the Library with me and Eve.”

Something about Bill’s tone started to piss James off.  He’d been a bit funny with him for the last couple of weeks.  It was almost as if he was jealous of the time James had been spending with Q.

“Oh well.  Three’s a crowd and all that.  Anyway, I wasn’t on my own, I was with Q.”  He lifted the book back up so he could continue reading and effectively end the conversation but Bill snatched it away.  James felt the first shiver of anger.

“With Q?  Listen mate, I’m all for you making friends, God knows you’ve always been a bit rubbish at it, but it’s not healthy for you to latch onto some tatty old painting.”

James sat up.

“Tatty old painting?”  He said acidly.  He’d spoken to Bill at length about Q and he thought he’d understood how much he meant to him.  How clever he was and how helpful.  He saw Gareth and Sebastian scurry down the stairs out of the corner of his eye, no doubt expecting a full-blown argument to ensue, but Alec sat up in his bed and watched them quietly.

“Look.” Bill started, looking tired.  “You need to forget about it.  Concentrate on the living.  You’ve got your Herbology exam tomorrow and you need to pass it for the Ministry to take you on…”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”  James snapped, his voice rising.  “How could I not know that when you and Eve mention it every five bloody minutes?  Merlin!  You’re not my fucking parents!”

“No.” Bill replied calmly.  “They’re dead but if they were still here they’d agree with us that…”

“You prick.”  James spat, getting up off the bed and bearing down on his best friend.  “How dare you talk about them like that?  How dare you presume to know what they would have thought?”

“They wouldn’t have wanted this!”  Bill pleaded, but James was in no mood to be placated.  “Moping about, hiding yourself away and avoiding your revision.  I spoke to Professor Longbottom today about it and…”

“You dobbed me in it with Longbottom?”  James was incredulous.  “Fucking hell.  Stab me in the back why don’t you?”  He scowled at him.  “You really don’t believe that I’ve been revising at all, do you?  Tell me Bill, how much of an arsehole do you take me for?”

Bill seemed about to snap back at James again but then he hesitated.

“If you don’t take your exams seriously, a massive one.”  He said quietly before turning and going back downstairs.

James watched him go, his mouth hanging open.  Bill was his best friend, his only friend, or so he’d thought.  He’d…

“He has a point.”  James turned to look at Alec who was now perched cross-legged on the end of his bed.  “Even we’ve noticed it.  Me and Gareth and Seb.  You’ve been off this last few weeks.  I know…”  Alec began to look uncomfortable.  “I know we used to be mates and what I did after…”

“You abandoned me.”  James interjected.  “When I got back after my parents funeral you wouldn’t speak to me.  I thought we were going to be best friends.”

“Me too,” Alec said sadly, “but I was eleven years old and I was scared.  I didn’t know what to say to you and by the time I realised that anything would have been better than avoiding you Bill had stepped in where I should have.  After that I didn’t think you’d want me to be your best friend anymore.”

“I might’ve.”  James replied.  Alec seemed to think about that for a moment before he continued;

“But now you’re pushing away the one person who did stick by you and just before you leave here forever.  How do you think that’s making him feel?”

James slumped.  Alec was right.  He thought back to his first day back at the school after the funeral.  He’d walked into his Potions lesson and everyone had looked away except for Bill.  He’d cleared his bag off the seat next to him and smiled as James had sat down on it.  He owed him too much to fall out with him now.  He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I’ll speak to him at breakfast.”  He said.  “Apologise.”

He got back into bed and used his wand to close the curtains on it.  In the small cocoon of darkness he quickly fell asleep and began to dream.

_It’s the same as always, the same as every dream now.  The corridors, the nakedness, the incessant chanting;_

“ _The eagle cannot fly!”_

“ _The eagle cannot fly!”_

“ _The eagle cannot fly!”_

_Everything seems the same and yet now James feels calm, at ease.  He walks quickly, knowing what is waiting for him.  He finds the door to the Room of Requirement and it opens for him.  He walks past the thousands of mirrors and smiles as he see Q sitting in the corner.  His head is resting to one side as it always is when James approaches his portrait except he’s not in his portrait anymore, he’s sitting on the floor in front of it.  As James gets closer Q stirs and looks up and suddenly looks so anguished.  James reaches for him but Q shakes his head and James sees now that he is decaying, flaking like the paint, thins threads of white pulsing under his skin as if in time with his heartbeat._

_“I thought you would save me.” Q whispers.  “I thought you would be the one.”_

_James wants to reassure him but as he touches him he crumbles away to dust._

“No…”

James’s own quietly breathed plea woke him and he sat up, momentarily disorientated.  Q.  He had to see Q.  There was something wrong with him, he was sure of it now, he was in danger.  Grabbing his wand he set off down the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room and then out past the portrait of the Fat Lady.  He stumbled several times, still half asleep but determined to get to Q.

“James?”  He stopped in his tracks when he saw he’d almost walked straight past Professor Longbottom.  The teacher was sitting under a window in a beam of moonlight, repotting a strange-looking plant with bright purple flowers.  He saw James notice what he was doing and smiled. “Aconite.  Also known as Monksfoot of Wolfsbane.  Repotting it in the light of a full moon increases its potency.  Marvellous plant, wonderful properties.”  James looked up the corridor, anxious to carry on.  Longbottom noticed and stood up.  “James?  Are you alright?”

“I have to go!” James blurted out, the feeling of dread from his dream still clinging to him.  “I have to go right now Sir!”

“Is this about the portrait Bill told me about?”

James hesitated and almost ran for it anyway but Professor Longbottom looked so concerned he sagged, suddenly realising that his panic was down to the stupid dream still playing on his mind.

“I have to help him Professor.  Bill doesn’t understand…”

“I might.”  Longbottom said gently.  “Will you tell me about him?”

Him.  Professor Longbottom said _him_ .  Not _it_.  James felt his chest tighten with emotion.  After weeks of trying to get Bill and Eve to listen to him about Q, the older man had picked up on what James was saying immediately.  Longbottom bent to pick up his plant and nodded his head back towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Come on.  Come and have a cup of tea with me.”

Instead of going all the way back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Professor Longbottom turned off at the last moment.  He led James down a side corridor before ushering him in through a plain door adorned with a small brass plaque which read ‘ _Prof. N Longbottom’_.  Inside there was a cosy looking room filled with books and plants and comfortable-looking chairs.  There was a copper pot sitting next to the merrily burning fire in the fireplace.  Professor Longbottom picked it up and hung it on a hook over the flames.  James sat down and gazed at the bookshelves.  There were photos in amongst the books and plants and one of them caught his eye.  A fat, unattractive little boy in Gryffindor robes, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and holding a large unsightly toad.  He stared at it uncomprehendingly until an idea occurred to him.

“Sir?  Is that…?”

Professor Longbottom chuckled and crossed the room to pick up the picture.

“My Nan insisted on having that taken during my first Christmas home after starting at Hogwarts.  She was so proud that I’d received my letter.  She’d been convinced I was a squib.”

James looked at him in surprise.  Professor Longbottom was generally considered to be the coolest of all the teachers at Hogwarts, despite the fact he was usually to be found in the greenhouses knee-deep in dragon dung.  He passed James the picture and then turned to make tea.  James gazed at it, struggling to reconcile the handsome man in the room with the odd-looking boy in the photograph.  Longbottom turned back and offered James a mug.  He took the photo when James held it out to him and sat down opposite him.

“Puberty was certainly very kind to me…” He said quietly before setting the photo down on the little table beside him.  He took a sip of his tea.  “When I came to Hogwarts I was terrified.  I’d never made friends easily, Nan was too overbearing for that and suddenly I was surrounded by hundreds of kids I didn’t know.  I was awkward, too small for my own feet and I was convinced I would never make anything of myself.  The only bright side to being here was that I was finally able to escape the clutches of my Nan but then I met Professor Snape and he terrified me even more than her…”

“Severus Snape?”  James asked, “I thought he was a hero?”

“He was,” Professor Longbottom admitted, “but he was also a colossal arsehole.”  He took another sip and chuckled. “He frightened the shit out of me… What I’m trying to get to James is that, although teachers at Hogwarts aren’t supposed to have favourites, you’ve always been mine.  I guess I could relate in a way… that feeling of isolation is the loneliest feeling in the world.  My worst day as a teacher was the day we had to tell you that your parents had died.  I watched you as you got older and I realised it had alienated you from most of the boys in your year, just the way the fate of my parents alienated me.  You reminded me so much of being a lonely boy here myself.”

“How old were you when your parents died Sir?”

“They didn’t.  At least, not while I was still at school.  My father died when I was twenty.  My Nan, three years after that.  Mum’s still alive though.”

“Oh sorry, I thought…”

Professor Longbottom stared into his mug and shook his head sadly.

“When I was a baby my parents were in the Order of the Phoenix, the original one I mean.  They were captured and tortured by a witch called Bellatrix Lestrange.  She destroyed their minds with prolonged use of the Cruciatus Curse.  They were in St Mungo’s for years.”  He paused, obviously collecting his thoughts.  “Dad died of a heart attack when he was just forty seven.  Nan was never the same afterwards.  I think she’d spent all those years hoping he’d recover.  It broke her heart when he didn’t.  Mum’s in a care home in Southend now.  I see her whenever I can but she doesn’t know me.  Although sometimes she thinks I’m my dad.”  He smiled wistfully.  “It’s the only time I see her smile.  She’s so pretty, even now.”

“I’m sorry.” James said again.

“It’s okay.  I mean, something like that shapes you, of course it does, but it doesn’t have to define you.”  James drank some of his tea, unsure of what to say.  After a few moments Longbottom spoke again.  “Will you tell me about the portrait that you found?”

The words came slowly.  James haltingly told Longbottom the story of finding the portrait, of the conversations he’d had with it and the help it had given him with his studies.  He also told him about Bill’s jealousy and his unwillingness to see Q as anything but a distraction and a menace.  About how neither Bill nor Eve seemed to care that Q was getting sick.  When he finally stopped talking Professor Longbottom sat quietly for a few minutes.  Eventually he spoke.

“What do you mean when you say that Q is getting sick James?  Do you mean the way that the paint is deteriorating?”

“No, he’s sick too.” James said.  “When I first saw him and he was reclining in his corner, you know, how he was painted, he looked tired, like he was sleeping.  Now he looks sick.  His hair is limp like he’s been sweating.  His lips look dry and he has awful dark patches under his eyes.”

“That’s very strange and I’m not sure it should be possible.” Professor Longbottom pondered as he poured out more tea.  “When I was in my second year someone attacked the portrait of the Fat Lady.”

“The Gryffindor password keeper?”

“The very same.  The thing was though James, I saw that damage myself.  Her painting was slashed from side to side in several places, as if by claws, and yet she wasn’t injured.  She simply ran off into another portrait to hide.”

“Q can’t do that.” James said. “He says he and the other portraits don’t interact.”

“Then that’s another odd thing.” Professor Longbottom said.  “All the portraits at Hogwarts intermingle.  Even the most miserable subjects seem to have friends here and your young man doesn’t sound miserable.”

“He’s not.” James admitted with a smile.  “He’s friendly.  He’s always so pleased to see me again.  I feel bad when I’m not there to talk to him.  I just wish I could have found him that day Eve and Bill were with me.  It would have been so much better…”

“It seems to me as if you’re very fond of him.” Longbottom smiled back at James.  “I tell you what.  I’ll admit that plants are my forte so why don’t I take you to see someone who knows a lot more about magical portraits than me?  Finish your tea and then go and put some clothes on.  I’ll take you to see her.”

James looked down and blushed when he suddenly realised he was still in his pyjamas .

“Yes Sir.”

 

 


	4. The Painting

Twenty minutes later they stood at the alcove which led to the headmistress’s office.  Professor Longbottom cleared his throat and clearly said;

“ _ Knit one, pearl one _ .”  There was a rumble stone stairs began to appear.  “Apparently when Dumbledore was headmaster he used sweets as his passwords,” he laughed, “sherbet lemons, fizzing whizz-bangs, chocolate frogs, you name it.  Professor McGonagall prefers knitting terms.”  He stepped onto the bottom step and James followed him.  They wound their way up to a sturdy wooden door which Professor Longbottom rapped on twice.  They heard a muffled ‘ _ come in’ _ .

Despite it being barely six o’clock in the morning Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk.  She was sorting through an enormous sheaf of parchment but she stopped what she was doing to peer at them both over the top of the half-moon glasses she wore.

“Professor Longbottom.  Bond.  To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Begging your pardon Headmistress, it’s not you we’ve come to see.  I wondered if it might be possible for us to have a word with the Lady M?”

“I should think that’s entirely possible.”  She remarked and went back to her reading.  Professor Longbottom led Bond over into the corner of the office. 

The walls of the room were covered in portraits of the ex-heads of Hogwarts.  The portrait that Professor Longbottom stopped in front of was of an elderly woman.  She was sitting in a comfortable armchair with her feet resting on a footstool.  She was busy embroidering what appeared to be an extremely rude word onto a sampler.  When she noticed them she put down her sewing.

“Professor Longbottom, isn’t it?”  She asked.  When he nodded she turned to James. “And who is this?”

“I’m Bond ma’am.  James Bond.” He said.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We wondered,” Professor Longbottom began, “if it was possible for the subject of a portrait to become ill.  Bond here has discovered a portrait that appears to be ailing.”

The Lady M had been looking slightly bored but she sat up a little at Longbottom’s words.

“Really?”  She said, looking sceptical.  “I’d be very surprised.”

At Professor Longbottom’s prompting James found himself telling the story of finding Q again.   He felt almost embarrassed to talk about the way he felt about Q in front of McGonagall so he left out what they’d talked about.  He tried to stick to the bare facts but he couldn’t help himself as he described how sick Q had looked the last time he’d seen him.

“He’s getting weaker.”  He said desperately.  “He’s looking so ill and I want to help him.  He needs help.  I just don’t know what to do.  Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“So like a Gryffindor.”  The Lady M remarked.  “Ready to leap in bravely.  I’m afraid in this instance though you have been misled.  There is no way the subject of a painting can sicken.  It simply doesn’t work like that.  Whatever it is that you’ve found, it’s not a portrait.  Not in the usual sense anyway.”

“But…”  She was wrong James thought.  She had to be.  Q was in danger…

“Let M finish James.”  Professor Longbottom said gently, reaching over to touch his elbow.  James glanced at him and nodded.

“Of course.  Sorry Ma’am.”

The Lady M watched their exchange closely, her bright intelligent eyes sparkling.  When she spoke again her tone was kinder.

“I was headmistress at Hogwarts over three hundred years ago and it was I who introduced the custom of preserving the headmaster’s likenesses in these portraits upon their passing away.   That’s all we are Bond; likenesses.  The real Lady M passed away in her sleep and that very moment this portrait” (she gestured around herself) “was created.  I am not M, I am a picture of her. I am her captured in a moment in time.  I am content to sit and embroider for year on end if no one speaks to me because that was how I was painted.  I cannot wither, I cannot age, for I will always remain as I was painted.

“The real Lady M studied magical portraits for much of her life.  That fascination has been preserved in this portrait and I have made it my business to catalogue all the portraits in this castle.  Most of them were created as this one, at point of death.  Those portraits most accurately portray their subject’s personalities.  Others were painted as tributes after death.  The personalities of those portraits are not nearly so accurate.  It is said that the portrait of Sir Cadogan is one such tribute, painted a full one hundred years after his passing.  By all accounts the man himself wasn’t half so nutty as he was painted.

“I’m sorry Bond, but I have met all of the subjects of all the paintings in this castle and your young friend isn’t amongst them.  I know of no such painting in the Room of Requirement or anywhere in the castle.”

“But I’ve spent hours talking to him!” James blurted out.

“I’m not saying you didn’t find anything.” She said carefully. “I’m saying that whatever you’ve found it’s not like the rest of us portraits and for that reason alone you must be extremely cautious of it.”

“Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts we have found strange things, cursed things in this building.”  McGonagall had obviously given up pretending she wasn’t listening and had walked over to join in the conversation.  “You must be careful Bond.  Terrible spells were cast that night.  Spell upon spell.  Who knows what it is exactly that you’ve found.  I think it best that you don’t go near that portrait again…”

James felt rising dread as he looked at the people and portrait looking at him.   He’d thought he was going to get help for Q but now it seemed that they were all just like Bill and Eve, intent on stopping him from seeing him again. 

“You don’t understand… no one seems to be listening to me.”

“What don’t we seem to be understanding James?” Professor Longbottom asked, concern on his face.

“HE’S MY FRIEND!”  James shouted.  “And I…”  He bit off what he was about to say.   _ And I love him _ .

He loved him.

He loved Q with his quiet humour and his bright intelligence and his beautiful face.  He loved him and he couldn’t face losing him.

He walked away from them and threw his head back, trying to stop the tears that were suddenly trying to choke him. He was so confused.  If Q wasn’t a portrait what  _ was _ he?  James looked up at the carved wooden Hogwarts crest which sat above the door.  The others began to talk in low voices behind him as he stared at it.  He froze as he saw the figures on it.  The serpent, the badger, the lion and…

“The eagle.”  James whispered to himself.  “He was in Ravenclaw.  He’s the eagle.”

What had McGonagall just said?   _ The Battle of Hogwarts.  So many spells.   _ Sweet Merlin… what if… __ He turned back.  Before he could speak Professor Longbottom stepped forward.

“James, we think it’s best if you come with me to the hospital wing.  You’ve got your Herbology exam today and it might be best if we can give you a little something to take your mind off the portrait and…”

“It’s not a portrait.  Well, maybe it is but it’s a curse too.”  James blurted out.  “It must have been something to do with the Battle of Hogwarts.  All that magic!  It trapped him and he needs rescuing!  I can do it.  That’s what Trelawney was trying to tell me all those years ago.  That’s what she meant!”

“James…” Professor Longbottom tried to touch James but he shied away, taking a step back.  He knew what they were planning to do.  They wanted to distract him from Q so he wouldn’t seek him out again.

“She told me and I was too thick to work it out!  She didn’t mean a serpent’s venom literally, she must have meant a Slytherin’s curse.  Maybe it wasn’t a particularly powerful one but you said it Headmistress, there was so much magic in the air that night.  And he must have been a Ravenclaw, an eagle!  I assumed he was a Gryffindor when he said he knew my father but dad was Quidditch captain for years.  The whole school would have known who he was!”

“Bond, you’re not making any sense!”  McGonagall snapped.

“I am!”  James laughed.  “For the first time since I met him this is all making sense!  I’m a Gryffindor.  I’m his lion and I know what I have to do.”

He turned and ran out of the room.  He heard Professor Longbottom on the stairs behind him but he was quicker, sprinting away from his teacher and towards the Room of Requirement, towards his Q.  What had Trelawney said?   _ A lion alone can break the chains, if brave enough to die.” _ He was Q’s lion, he was sure of it.  And he was prepared to do whatever it took to save him.

His breath grew ragged as he reached the seventh floor.  He could still hear Professor Longbottom in pursuit but he didn’t care.  He was far enough ahead of him that he would easily reach the Room of Requirement before him.  He rounded the corner, shoving a couple of early bird first years out of the way and saw the door waiting for him.  With a grin he wrenched it open and threw himself inside.  It shut with a clang behind him and all went quiet.  James wondered if the door would even still be visible by the time Professor Longbottom got there.  He murmured ‘ _ lumos’ _ and walked slowly towards Q, his wand held aloft.  There was no rush now.  He knew what he had to do.

Q was slumped in his corner and for one horrible moment James thought he was dead.  He looked so lifeless and so cold but then he stirred and looked up at him.  He smiled as he realised it was James and painfully sat himself up.

“You came back.”

“I said I would.”  James smiled back at him.  “I’ve come to save you.”

Q laughed, a tired, sad sound.

“You can’t do that.  You know that.”

“I thought I did.” James admitted.  “But I talked to a few people and it’s made me realise something very important.”

“Oh?” Q raised his eyebrows.

“I love you.”  James said.

“I see.”  Q replied, a blush touching his pale cheeks.  “I thought you liked girls.”

“I like girls.” James shrugged.  “But I  _ love _ you.  So I have to save you.”

“You can’t.”  Q said again, shaking his head.  His voice was small.

“Why do you keep telling me your portrait will hurt me?”  The question seemed to confuse Q.  He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again without speaking.  “Because I don’t think it will.  Everything else about you, why you’re here, how you got here, it’s all off-limits isn’t it?  You’re not allowed to say but you’re always so quick to tell me not to touch.  The picture doesn’t mind you saying that!”  Q sat up and spoke James’s name, low and pleading as the white tendrils crept into view.  “I don’t think you’ve even realised it.  How many students?  How many people have you warned off over the years?”  Q shook his head again, looking panicked as the tendrils began to pulse and writhe. “I don’t believe it.  Why would that be the only thing you could say?”

He thrust his hand forward then and Q cried out in shock as James’s fingers brushed over the surface of the paint… except it didn’t feel like paint, it felt like the surface tension of water.  No, thicker than water, liquid honey perhaps.  Taking a deep breath James pushed his hand forward.  For a split second there was resistance and then the surface seemed to give way and James saw his own hand  _ in _ the painting.  Brushstrokes replaced his skin.  The white tendrils rushed over the surface of the portrait to cover his wrist, biting into him like nettle stings. He yanked his hand back and watched fascinated as they seemed to wither, disappearing into nothing in the air.  That was good enough for him.  He looked at Q who was now on his knees, terror and… was that hope?... in his eyes.

“I love you Q.”  James said calmly.

Not waiting for a response James lunged forward.

His fingers, hands, arms and finally his face, plunged into the painting.  He felt a moment of disorientation.  Everything in the painting was oppressive, the pressure seeming to weigh him down.  From his waist down he could feel the chill of the Room of Requirement, the picture’s frame where it dug into his stomach and the rough stone of the bricks below pressing into his knees through the material of his trousers.  His head swam as he squinted, trying to get used to the jumbled up brushstrokes that made up the world around him now. 

Q was there, startled, frozen into his painted corner.  James reached for him and Q tentatively slipped his hand into his.  James laughed, or at least he tried to as the pressure inside the picture seemed to increase.  The stinging, creeping pain from the white threading seemed to grow too.  It was as if the painting wasn’t will to give up its subject willingly and was beginning to fight back.  James knew he was going to win the tug of war though.  How could he not?  He loved Q and he was willing to die for him.  He knew that now.  All those years and Trelawney’s stupid rhyme finally made sense.  James grit his teeth and hauled on Q’s hand until he could slip his arms around him.  He pulled him in close and his head swam again as he realised that he could feel him, actually  _ feel _ him.  He could feel the softness of his hair on the side of his face, the way he that clung to James and even the wild flutter of his heart.

James hauled on him, trying to ignore the way that his back was beginning to hurt and his arms were beginning to tire.  Q moved closer to the surface.  James’s face contorted as he tried again.  Another inch.  He could do this but his vision was doubling with the effort.  He pushed his knees harder into the brickwork as he felt the painting try to drag Q back. No!  He wouldn’t let it.  He would win this fight.  He would save Q.  He had to.  He tried to clear his mind, stay calm even though his lower back was screaming now and it felt like his knees were being cut to ribbons.  He linked his fingers behind Q’s back and with every last ounce of strength left in him he  _ pulled _ …

 

~00Q~

Q reached up to take James’s face in his hands.  Craning up he kissed him, slipping his tongue into his mouth to initiate the sweetest of kisses.  When they eventually came up for air Q smiled at him.

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I love you too.  I knew you’d save me.” _

Their words were whispered, meant for just the two of them.  James kissed Q again and captured his soft gasps as he pushed inside him for the first time.  They were lying on their robes in James’s favourite spot by the lake, both of them naked, the rest of their clothes scattered around them.  The school was deserted, it was the last Saturday before the end of term, and all the other students were in Hogsmeade enjoying the early summer sun so there was no-one there to see them as they gave each other their virginity. 

Once free of the portrait they had wasted no time in getting to know each other and now they couldn’t bear to be parted.  James had missed all his exams and Q had yet to pick up his life after being trapped for so long but none of that mattered.  Everything else could wait.  They had all the time in the world to spend together… 

James drew his knee up under Q’s thigh and began to make love to him, rocking him slowly.  He wondered how he ever got so lucky as to meet such a beautiful young man.  He never would have believed that his first time would be with another boy but it made sense now.  Everything made sense now.  One day soon they would be leaving Hogwarts, they would move to London and begin to live their lives together but for now this was all James wanted.  Lovemaking with Q.

Q shifted and whined, arching his neck and James kissed the side of his throat.  He was close, so close already, but he tried to stop his rising orgasm.  He wanted Q to come first so he reached between them and found his stiff prick.  He closed his fingers around the head of it, jerking him quickly.  Q moaned and shuddered, coming within a few strokes.  When he arched his back and spasmed his bucking brought James off.  He spent himself inside his love. Suddenly the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck was too much and his head swam.  He shook it and Q stroked his back as he tried to stop the waves of dizziness.  Something was wrong.  Something…

Q reached up to take James’s face in his hands.  Craning up he kissed him, slipping his tongue into his mouth to initiate the sweetest of kisses.  When they eventually came up for air Q smiled at him.

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I love you too.  I knew you’d save me.” _

Their words were whispered, meant for just the two of them.  James kissed Q again and captured his soft gasps as he pushed inside him for the first time.  They were lying on a picnic blanket in James’s favourite spot by the lake, both of them naked, their clothes scattered around them.  The school was deserted, it was the last Saturday before the end of term, and all the other students were in Hogsmeade enjoying the early summer sun so there was no-one there to see them as they gave each other their virginity... 

~00Q~

It was her last night at the school before she retired the next day. 

Professor Minerva McGonagall stood in the headmaster’s office as she had every night for the past twenty years and watched the two young men as they played out the same act of love time and time again.  James Bond and Quintilius Osprey, two students of Hogwarts, both victims of a curse which originated on the night that Hogwarts was almost destroyed.

She’d fleetingly seen Quintilius that terrible night, just before Voldemort had started his bombardment of the castle.  There had been so many ex-students who had returned to help protect the school and fight for The Boy Who Lived.  She’d been hurrying down to the main courtyard when she’d spotted him rushing up the stairs with Remus Lupin.    Q had left Hogwarts three years before but she’d have recognised his slight frame and bouncing wavy hair anywhere. By the end of year his name was next to Lupin’s on the Hogwarts memorial to the fallen.  His body was never found but that wasn’t unusual.  Many were lost completely that night.

She recognised him now, lying under James, both of them so wrapped up in each other.  A smile crept across her face when she remembered Filch’s reaction to finding the painting the day before the students were due to return to Hogwarts for the new school year, a few months after Bond had disappeared.  He’d made such a scene, bellowing about pornography on the walls of the school.  He’d called it an obscenity and was threatening to burn it before McGonagall recognised the subjects.  Ever since then the best and brightest wizards and witches from all over the world had attempted to break the curse but to no avail.  What was it Bond had said, that last morning, standing in her office?   _ So much magic _ . He’d known there was something special about the boy he called Q.  He’d realised he was so much more than just another soulless portrait…

“It doesn’t do to dwell on the past Minerva.”

She turned and saw that the portrait of Dumbledore was watching her. She sighed as she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“I failed him.  I failed them both.”

“How so?  If you had stopped James from trying to save Quintilius he would have spent these last twenty years mourning the loss of the boy he loved.  He was unhappy with life since the death of his parents.  How do you think he’d have felt if he had been unable to save Quintilius?”

“But they’re  _ trapped _ !”

“Trapped, yes, but in a seemingly eternal loop of love’s first bloom.  That is something that many would think of as heaven.  Better to be there than alone in a world he found cruel and uncaring I think, and who knows?  One day someone may find a way to release them and allow them to live their lives together properly.” 

“I want to take them with me.”  She said suddenly, a tear slipping down her dry cheek.  “I want to keep them safe.”

“I’m sure you would but what about after you pass?  What then?  Who would care for them?  No.  Better to leave them here.  Let Professor Longbottom and all the headmasters and headmistresses who follow him care for them and keep them safe here.”

“Aye,” she said sadly, “I suppose.”

She looked at them for one last moment, James and Quintilius were murmuring to each other, too quiet to be heard but it was obvious from the movement of their lips what they were saying.  As James began to move again she closed the red velvet curtain that had been fixed to the frame.  She drew her dressing gown around her thin waist and then left the office, leaning heavily on her walking stick.  As she carefully descended the spiral staircase she couldn’t help feeling that Dumbledore was right.

She reached the bottom and made her way along the long corridor to her quarters, the words the boys spoke running through her head over and over.

_ I love you. _

_ I love you too.   _

_ I knew you’d save me. _

__

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you'd like to join me, I'm still doing my thing over at iambid.tumblr.com. Flailing over cute kitties, hot actors and men who, in all likelihood, are displaying a bit more flesh than their mothers would approve of.


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